


Fading Youth

by SemperSomnium



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Growing Old Together, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 20:10:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11043456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemperSomnium/pseuds/SemperSomnium
Summary: The sex is different now. Jack's hair is grey, his eyes surrounded by deep crinkles. Will's curls are starting to go white, and the cold air of the open sea really isn't good for old bones. But overall, Will can't bring himself to mind.





	Fading Youth

**Author's Note:**

> This is cross posted from FFNet under the same username. The fic has been edited slightly to improve the flow and fix a couple of minor typos.
> 
> Warnings for candid descriptions of their sex life I suppose, but otherwise this is just schmoopy fluff. I love the thought of these two having their happy ending and growing old together. <3

The sex is different now.

Jack’s hair is more grey than brown, his eyes surrounded by deep lines that come from a life spent squinting out at water reflected sun. His tattoos are faded and ash-grey on tanned, weathered skin, stretched across bones like canvas stretched between wood. As much as he likes to deny it, his stomach is rounded and pudgy – Will likes to poke it and tease, tells him that his gut sloshes with the rum he’s spent his life drinking. Jack slaps at his hand and tugs at curls only just starting to go white, snarking that he’s lived his life well then.

Such little things that shouldn’t make much of a difference to anything, but Will feels them just the same.

There was a time, only a few months into their acquaintance, that they could have sex up against a wall, or on cold, rough wood floors, or on Jack’s four-poster – one of his few luxuries – in the Captain’s cabin while a storm rages around them and the _Black Pearl_ is tossed about on angry waves. There would be biting and shoving and _yes, please, harder,_ and _don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t –_ yes _._

Will would be hard and wanting at the most inconvenient of times, at the behest of a crooked smirk or sly wink or even just at a smouldering glance. Jack would find himself distracted by Will’s arse or his natural grace or the way that his eyes crinkled when he grinned.

Sometimes, so late at night it was almost morning, Will would be woken by a husky _let me have you_ and they’d fuck, soft and slow, half asleep and rocking together in time with the waves. Other times, an arm or a leg or chest would be bandaged, and butterfly kisses would be pressed upon the line where skin met cloth. _I’m sorry_ and _never again_ would be whispered; the soft words solemn oaths that would inevitably be broken.

They used to have sex nearly every night, with a few memorable occasions where it had happened thrice, or even more often, in the same day.

Will’s not sure when it started changing, when they started sleeping the night through without fucking first; when kissing or even necking didn’t automatically lead to something more; when sex suddenly wasn’t all that important.

Now the sex is soft and slow all the time. Something to be planned out and only happening in a soft bed. The last time they had tried it against a wall, both of them came out of it stiff and sore, wincing in pain rather than pleasure. They come together on the rare occasions when Will might feel the warmth stirring in his lower abdomen, or when Jack stares and remembers all the nights where sleep was delayed by frantic need.

More often now, they retire to the Captain’s cabin at a half reasonable hour and slowly remove each other of their affects. Jack’s hat hangs lopsidedly off the statue of an ugly old man he acquired in Singapore. Their pistols and knives are carelessly placed on the rickety bedside table that has more holes and cuts in it than a dartboard, and their boots are abandoned somewhere between the door and the bed.

Jack combs his hand through Will’s whitening hair, gently removing the old and faded bandanna – one of Elizabeth’s last gifts to him before they separated. It is placed carefully next to their pistols, neatly folded.

Will catches Jack’s hand before it falls away and brings it to his lips. He kisses the knuckles chastely, smiling the familiar lop-sided grin and receiving a soft smirk in return.

They undress and climb in between their expensive, worn sheets, curling together to ward off the chill. Will knows he should suggest that they think about retiring – the sea is no place for old bones – but Jack is still so wholly devoted to the _Black_ _Pearl_ and the waters she sails that he can’t quite bring himself to do so just yet.

In the meantime they spoon together, legs tangled and fingers lightly linked. Jack’s goatee brushes against Will’s neck, and his heart beats strong against his back.

Will smiles, and sleeps.

The sex may be so rare nowadays as to be nonexistent, but Will doesn’t really mind. All things considered, nothing else has changed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, and would love to hear your thoughts!


End file.
